Ginny's Rum
by razor-red-loui
Summary: Mild profanity, hence the rating. The HP books through Ginny's eyes, with my own version incorporated of course :). Ginny shown in a new, rather personal light...
1. Prologue

**Yay!! My first fanfic. What do you think?!?!!**

_Prologue_

Girls need their privacy, right? We all like our alone time. Particularly when we're going through puberty. But in a family with a mum, dad, and six brothers and a small house, how is a girl to get that privacy?

It was always chaos in our house, from the day Fred and George were born – or so I'm told. I'm the youngest in the family. Fred and George, apparently, got up to all sorts of mischief – without even getting out of the crib. They loosened the wooden bars (Mum and Dad had to buy the crib from a second-hand Muggle store); they somehow undid the stitchings of their blankets (Mum had lost her wand), and pulled the sheets of their mattress. They were always full of energy (and still are) and up to some mischief or another. Even when they were asleep they tended to chew on anything within reach – normally their night clothes or the blanket. I'm sure they also dreamt up hundreds of pranks in their sleep, but could not remember them when they woke up.

However in one instance, George the little rascal managed to break one of the wooden bars one night, while everyone – even Fred – was asleep. He tumbled gently out of the low crib, landing soundlessly on the thick carpet, and went adventuring through the house. Fortunately the crib was located downstairs, or poor George would have taken a tumble down the stairs out of pure curiosity. While he did venture near the stairs, he seemed to have enough sense not to go up them. Or maybe he was just interested in doing as much damage downstairs as he could before braving upstairs – and Mum's wrath.

Mum knew all this had happened because when she got up in the morning and went downstairs to prepare breakfast for the family, she found as much chaos as a baby in all his curiosity can cause. George had pulled the tablecloth off the coffee table, naturally taking everything with it, knocked over the umbrella stand (which was rarely used, actually – have a guess why!), which in turn bumped into a family heirloom – a beautiful vase from ancient China – and knocked it to the ground. It broke...boy did Mum go bonkers! I'm glad I hadn't been around yet to witness it...I would have gone cowering behind Dad for a change. I used to be rather shy.

Anyway, that was the worst of the damage George caused. Not knowing, of course, that broken glass is sharp, he crawled over these interesting new fragments of life, and cut himself on his hands. That made him stop, and sit up. That was the first time he ever sat up, and when Mum told him this much later, he just grinned and stated that we DID learn from our mistakes. So why did he keep making mistakes? Mum demanded.

'Oh, they're not mistakes Mum – just honest pranks that wouldn't hurt much more than a fly.'

'Ah. Now I know where my flytraps went. Give them back, George.'

And George would put on such a sad face and say, dramatically, 'I'm sorry, dear old Mum – I sold them to the Frog'. Frog was George's endearing nickname for Fred.

'FRED! COME DOWN HERE!'

Fred and George were my idols...they were full of life and fun and between them, never a dull moment existed. And later when I thought about this conversation, it all made a lot of sense...what better reason to sell flytraps to a frog so he can save himself the trouble of working for his food?

All in all, life for me was good. While sometimes I did crave extra alone time, being a girl called upon me to help Mum with the cooking. Well actually Mum called upon me. But learning to cook was fun, against all my previous beliefs. Mum taught me simple spells to use to get the potatoes skinned and chopped, and once she let me cook an entire meal by myself. So boring were the first ten years of my life, that I considered cooking enjoyable.

No, let me rephrase that. Cooking was a calming ritual after spending half a day laughing myself silly over Fred and George's ridiculous pranks, and the other half chasing after them to get my things back. I had a lock on my door, of course, but that didn't stop them. Mum might as well have had two wands – Fred and George kept borrowing hers. She should never have taught them 'Alohomora', but then they _had_ tricked her into it. They were trying to get into the mess cupboard, where you could find practically anything, Muggle or Magic.

Fred and George were also into flying. They had their own brooms, of which I was rather jealous, and they would take them out at least twice a week and do a bit of flying practise, diving, swooping, soaring, _living_. Emancipating themselves, and it seemed so simple when you had a bit of wood, some straw and magic...

I didn't have my own broom; for some reason Mum never considered giving me one. But I would 'borrow' Fred or George's broom from time to time when no one was around, and do a bit of flying myself. Once I got the hang of steering the broom, I loved it and started taking out the brooms a lot more. It was a special kind of freedom that I couldn't seem to find anywhere else.

Not that I didn't have any freedom in my house, but I did loathe household chores. Apart from cooking, of course. From hearing Fred and George talk about school when they came home from second year at Hogwarts for the summer holidays, I had already decided that my favourite subject would be Potions – depending on the tolerance Professor Snape had for me, of course. I heard that he despised all Gryffindors, and it was likely that I would be put in that house when I started school, because all my brothers have been: Bill and Charlie and Percy and Fred and George and Ron, and Mum and Dad too. Or maybe I would be different and land myself a place in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Slytherin – no. If I found myself in that house, I would up and leave. I would _not_ be put in the same house as Voldemort.

This comes to an interesting fact about me: I have never been afraid to say Voldemort's name aloud. As Dumbledore would eventually come to say: _Fear of a name increases fear of a thing itself_. Simply put – if everyone were to be afraid to say Voldemort's name, his reputation amongst the public would be surrounded with more mystery and thus more fear. Am I making sense? It's the best way I can explain it. But as everyone begins to look so terrified whenever his name is mentioned, I've given up and started calling him You-Know-Who. Conforming, damn it.

And as I've heard about Voldemort, of course I've heard about Harry Potter. I haven't seen photos of him, as he's been hidden from the public for a long time until he is old enough to deal with being famous, I guess. Sometimes someone will appear in the interest column in the _Daily Prophet_, saying that they have seen Harry Potter – in the shops, on the bus, walking down the street. As his parents are dead, poor thing, they must be his aunt and uncle and cousin, as people who see him say that he is always in the company of a snobbish woman with a long neck, a round beach ball with a moustache a few years older than her, and a smaller yet rounder version of the beach ball with the moustache – without the moustache. They recognise him because of his scar, which isn't always visible, but he does look a lot like James Potter, or so they say.

I wish I could meet Harry Potter. I have heard that he would be going to Hogwarts a year before I would. Imagine being able to say that I have met Harry Potter! I would be the envy of all my overseas friends – not my school friends obviously, unless they had no nerve to go up to him and talk to him. I decided that I would work up the nerve and go up to him and introduce myself and talk to him. Even if I never got to know him well, it would be enough for me that I had talked to him and seen the 'real thing' tête á tête.

But I would always wonder: what was it like for him? How did he cope? I don't particularly like to admit that I love my parents, but I do. How horrible it must be for him, to have lost his parents at only one year old and thus have never known them, and then be forced upon his magic-hating relatives. At least, perhaps, he could get some friends at Muggle school, before he went to Hogwarts. And at least at Hogwarts, he would be able to escape them.

_Hold up a minute, _I thought. _Am I becoming captivated by a boy I don't even know, except by name?_ Then I shook my head. _Not captivated. Curious; interested. I have the chance to meet him! This boy is famous and he's going to my future school next year!_

The down side about this was that I would have to wait a year before _really_ having the chance to meet him, and then he would leave school a year before I did. But I'd survive, wouldn't I? Of course I would.

In the middle of my musings, Fred and George burst in, trying to contain their laughter. It seemed they had pulled another prank. I wondered who the hapless victim was this time, and listened eagerly along with them for the expected outburst. It took a few minutes, but it came at last.

'FRED! GEORGE! DID YOU TWO PUT MEXICAN JUMPING BEANS AMONGST MY JELLY BEANS?' Percy yelled down the stairs. A prank not involving magic? This was new. But then the simplest and most childish pranks tended to piss Percy off – why bother with magic?

By now Fred and George were laughing so hard that no answer was required. Unable to help myself, I broke into fits of laughter too. Percy would have to put up with the beans jumping around in his stomach for about a week. No further pranks would be required of these two masterminds – watching him agonise over the beans would be enough for them.

Percy came storming down the stairs, though his usual entrance was diminished by the fact that he was clutching his stomach as he came in.

'THAT WAS NOT FUNNY!' he shouted.

'It obviously was,' choked Fred, 'otherwise we wouldn't be laughing, now would we?'

I smiled. Life was good.

**Please review, I wan to know what you think of it!!**


	2. A loong wait

**Sorry I removed my story, but I decided to write more first, no please don't kill me (I'm sure you can resist?) Besides I had to rewrite the end of this chapter...sorry again, enjoy!**

_Chapter one: A loong wait_

As the summer holidays drew to a close, I began to feel more and more unhappy as I realised that my two idols, Fred and George, would be going to school within the next week. They would be off, pulling more pranks at Hogwarts, learning magic galore to aid them as well. The life of the house would be gone, and I would be left to my own devices – to wander aimlessly through the house, looking for things to do to occupy my time until my own school started a week after Hogwarts did.

Still, the last week of their holiday was far from boring, as a rule. Fred and George kicked up even more ruckus than usual: Dad's wand suddenly started acting moody until it eventually bit his finger, one of Mum's cooking books turned into a book which swore at her every time she tried to look up a recipe, half my bedroom decided to move itself to random places (that kept me busy for an entire day), Bill's long ponytail was gone one morning and replaced by a ridiculous looking crew cut, Ron's hands and feet were even larger than they normally were, Charlie suddenly seemed to be covered in more burns than usual – his face was bright red for three days straight – and surprise, surprise, Percy was left alone in his room, moaning and clutching his stomach and cursing Fred and George. However, the day they left for Hogwarts was the day that he miraculously recovered.

'Ginny,' Mum whispered in my ear in the small hours of the morning. 'Time to get up.' She shook me gently and then bustled about my room, opening the curtains and kicking a few of my scattered possessions out of the way.

I clambered out of bed, sleepy-eyed and dog tired, but I really wanted to come today. Today I would see how I would be going to get to Platform 9¾ next year – no one had yet bothered to tell me, and decided that it would be simplest to show me instead. I had no objections.

'Ginny, when we get back I want you to clean up this mess.'

'Of course, Mum, but when Fred and George are here there's no point, because they constantly mess it up.'

'Yes, I'm always glad when they go back to school. Bring some peace and quiet back into the house.'

'Oh it's not that bad, Mum...go on, admit it, you like some of the pranks they pull. Besides, whenever they come home from school they have learnt even more ways that they can pull pranks, and undoubtedly thought up a thousand more.'

'Yes, you can't win, can you?'

'It's fun though.'

'To those who aren't victims. And you're right, dear – I do like _some_ of their jokes. But only a minority. Just the _tiniest_ minority,' she finished a bit unwillingly. I grinned. As much as she liked them, she didn't want to admit it.

'But hurry up now dear. Come down for breakfast and we'll be off. Unfortunately your father can't come with us – urgent business at the Ministry.' With that, she bustled out the door, closing it behind her and leaving me to get ready.

I flung my nightie onto my bed, and walked over to my wardrobe. I ignored the mirror hanging on the inside of the door – I didn't particularly admire my looks – and glanced over my clothes. What should I wear? Something Muggle-like and casual. I selected my favourite denim jeans and green shirt, which read _So...?_ It also complemented my hair colour quite well.

Speaking of my hair – it was a mess. Bed hair, ugh. Not having my own wand yet, I did it up as well as I could, brushing it back out of my face and securing it with hair clips. I tilted my head, checking in the mirror. That would do okay.

I bounced downstairs, trying to pull on my socks and shoes as I did so, with the result that I tripped and tumbled down the last three. Oops. I quickly stood up, fixed my hair, and sat down at the breakfast table to alphabet cereal – meant for little kids, as it shouted out each letter as you speared it with your fork (they were large letters!), but I rather liked the flavour, and the voice which shouted out the letter was cute and funny if you speared several letters in quick succession. Once Mum had to tell me off for doing this with the letters 'f', 'u', 'c', 'k', 'm' and 'e' in that order.

Mum implored me to eat my breakfast quickly – we were running a bit late. Nothing unusual. But I had to giggle as I wolfed down my cereal, spearing random letters and stuffing them into my mouth. _Jkhiklmnipestredful, imotlkobnzvrom,_ said my breakfast. I would have said something back, but couldn't as my mouth was bulging.

The instant I was finished, Mum whisked the bowl and fork from under my nose, put them in the sink, commanded them with a flick of her wand to wash themselves and put themselves in the drying rack when they were done, and hurried me out the door to the car, where Fred and George and Percy and Ron were puffing and panting in the struggle to lift their enormous trunks into the boot of the car.

'Remind me not to pack so many rat brains next year,' George gasped.

'What do you need _rat brains_ for, you disgusting boy?' Mum asked sternly.

'To sell them off as bat brains and make a fortune, so we can dominate Zonko's Joke Shop,' Fred said seriously. Bat brains did look exactly the same as rat brains – but were far more expensive. And while rat brains would actually do nothing to you, bat brains were supposed to be beneficial in boosting the memory, and really tasted no different to rat brains.

Mum just rolled her eyes and sighed.

We piled into the enchanted car and drove to King's Cross Station, Mum muttering occasionally under her breath.

'Passing off rat brains as _bat brains_, honestly! How _rat brained_ would you have to be?' Fred and George heard her, of course; but instead of throwing back a smart-arse comment as they usually would, they simply shot evil grins at each other.

I envied them all going to school and being in each other's company, leaving me alone at home. Bill had moved out to Egypt split-quick after regrowing his ponytail to do some work for Gringotts, and Charlie had suddenly up and left, leaving a note explaining that he was wanted in Romania to help with 'dragon control', as he called it. He did this the day after his excess burns disappeared – to Fred and George's tremendous sorrow.

We eventually arrived at King's Cross at ten to eleven. Mum hurried us to the barrier between a part of the magical world and the Muggle world, pushing Fred and George's extra trunk in front of her on a trolley and complaining about the amount of Muggles. She briskly ordered Percy through; then Fred and George. At that moment, a boy pushing a trolley with a trunk and owl approached us.

He had jet-black, messy hair and mesmerising green eyes. He was skinny and really rather cute. He seemed a bit lost. He asked how to get onto the station, but Mum kept cutting him off, finishing his sentences for him, which actually seemed to boost his confidence a tiny bit.

Mum explained to him how to get through the barrier, and suggested he go before Ron. Looking rather apprehensive, the boy turned and went, taking the barrier at a run. After he was gone, Mum gave Ron a little shove.

'Off you go then, dear.'

Ron walked casually forwards and stepped through the barrier, melting into the wall and vanishing. How come the Muggles didn't notice anything? Was it _normal_ to them, to see humans stepping through walls? I didn't think so. Maybe the barrier was enchanted so that Muggles always looked away when someone walked through from either side.

'Come on, Ginny.' Mum walked towards the barrier, ignoring some sleaze's comment about her weight. Her facial expression didn't change as she took my hand and pulled me through the barrier.

It felt weird...because I felt nothing. The barrier was like a visual illusion, something which appeared solid but in fact, wasn't. It was like thin air; a rainbow, which everyone can see, but which no one can touch, because it is just light, slowed down and separated into colours.

But this was more than a physical barrier: it also seemed to be a sound barrier. I hadn't been able to hear any of this noise from the other side, nor the tooting of the steam train which was the Hogwarts Express.

Fred, George, Ron and Percy had disappeared. Mum still held my hand, and now used it to pull me through the crowd, ignoring the shrieking of a few people surrounding a first year boy with a box.

Eventually she spotted Fred and George and called to them. Ron and Percy joined us, too.

Mum began her usual pre-school lecture, but I drifted out of the conversation, thinking about the boy who had asked how to get through the barrier. Those eyes...eyes are the most emotionally expressive feature on the face. This boy seemed troubled, somewhat overburdened, perhaps...?

Then Fred and George blurted out that the boy was Harry Potter. Harry Potter. _Harry Potter...? Did I just hear that correctly??_

I begged Mum to let me go and see him again, but she told me off. Oh, she was right I know – he was not something you gawp and point at and take photos of in a zoo. He was a human being, just like me. But to imagine that he seemed just like any other boy, when he was in fact, _the_ Harry Potter himself. And I had dismissed him as an ordinary boy...it infuriated me. My own idiocy! Of course he was starting this year! I should have been on the lookout – he could have been any of the hundreds of boys around me. Naturally though, he was one hell of a lot cuter than any of these boys here...these were plain and average looking next to him.

And now to think that I would have to wait _an entire year_ before catching another glimpse at him...look into those eyes again. Damn my ignorance!

The next thing I heard was Fred and George promising to send me a Hogwarts toilet seat. I started up in alarm. What use would I have of that?

And then the train started moving off, with a final toot. I started running after it, laughing and crying, for Fred and George and Ron and maybe even Percy, but mainly the cutest boy on the planet – Harry Potter.

----------------------------

The first thing I did when I got home was start writing.

I wrote in my diary. I wrote letters to overseas friends, telling them all about how _I_ had seen _the_ Harry Potter and how I was going to his school next year. I also wrote rather imaginative, scripted conversations between Harry and myself. I ended up throwing them in the waste paper bin and cupping my chin in my hands, staring out the window and daydreaming. This time I daydreamed up conversations, and these flowed much faster and smoothly than those I had written.

I imagined what he would be like. How he would walk, how he would talk, how he would act. What he would be, as a person. His personality. His reaction to everyone when they started pointing at him and whispering...as would undoubtedly happen. Harry was so well-known throughout the wizarding world, that there would hardly be a person who hadn't at least heard his name spoken twenty times as they were walking down Diagon Alley.

I thought about all this and more, until my brain jerked me back into reality. I grinned suddenly. I _was_ captivated by Harry.

I glanced around me, and sighed. This was going to be one loong wait. Might as well get started – with cleaning up my room.

After the prank Fred and George had pulled, it had taken me an entire day to find everything and put it back in its proper place. Now, there was still a lot of space on the floor taken up with my scattered belongings.

_Just wait,_ I thought, _until I get my wand. Then I can pay back those evil twins._ Evil twins. Wish I had one. I could discover what my evil side was like.

After my room had been cleaned up, there was nothing much to do. The year dragged...nothing memorable happened, apart from a few school happenings. Those stupid Muggles...how they made me laugh. One incident occurred when one of the boys won at high jump during the athletics carnival – 2.03 metres was how high he jumped – and one of his admirers claimed that it must be magic.

Of course it wasn't. It was the latest in shoe technology...I hear they've invented shoes that have such spring in them, that it feels like you're moonwalking.

----------------------------

Eventually, finally, at last, the year came to an end. The boys came home, and it was lively chaos, fun, and my room was never tidy. Nothing could be better.

I bounced around the house as though I were wearing the latest in shoe technology, talking my head off non-stop. Percy stayed in his room all the time, coming out only for meals, which was strange – but it suited me fine. The small _booms_ coming from Fred and George's room were in full swing again and the house was full of energy.

Then I heard in passing that Ron was not getting replies to his letters from Harry. What? Since when was a cute boy such as him ignorant to his best friend? Maybe he was dwelling on the Lord Voldemort shit he'd gone through last year. I'd heard about it, of course, from Ron. He was wide-eyed and awe-struck as he recounted what had occurred at the castle, and made me wish to go there even more.

Then suddenly, Harry was at our house. I had heard Mum yelling at Fred and George downstairs in the early hours, but suddenly it had gone quiet. Wanting to know what had happened nonetheless, I slipped on my slippers and popped downstairs. There, I saw _Harry Potter sitting at our table eating breakfast!_

I couldn't help myself. The second I saw him, I let out a squeal and dashed back up to my room, my heart thudding. _Harry was at our house!_ I danced a silent jig on the carpet. But I decided to wait until I heard him get up and leave before I went to eat my own breakfast – my face would go as red as my hair.

Suddenly I heard a de-gnoming going on in the back yard. I peeped out my window and saw Harryjoining in. One had bitten his finger and he was shaking it so hard, that eventually it flew off his finger fifty feet into the air. I heard Fred or George comment about it, otherwise I wouldn't have known – it had flown higher than I could see from my bedroom window.

I was getting dressed when I heard Mum yelling at Dad – he must be home. I put my ear to the door and listened. Dad had bewitched a car to fly, and Fred and George had 'borrowed' it last night and brought Harry here like that. I shook my head in disbelief – but I wasn't complaining.

Then I heard someone walking past my door – Ron talking to an unfamiliar voice. I poked my head out the door to look and froze in shock and – well, happiness.

_It was Harry. And he was looking straight at me!!_

As soon as he saw me, I snapped my door shut; glad he couldn't see my cheeks burning. He was so damn cute! Then I heard Ron blabbing on – how I wasn't usually this shy – and my face burned even redder and I cursed Ron under my breath. If only I had a wand! I would snap his mouth shut and watch him suffer. Muahaha!

I felt a little surprised about myself then. Maybe I did have an evil side.

**I really really really want to know what you guys think...PLEASE let me know, you must!! Well...you know I'm kidding. Love ya's all anyway :)**


End file.
